Ogling — and Surfing — Namibia’s Haunting Red Dunes
February 12, 2010 at 10:56 am | In Africa, Namibia, ecotourism | 1 CommentTags: Namib, Namib Desert, Namib-Naukluft, Namibia, Sossuvlei, Windhoek
by José Balido
Some 3 1/2 hours by road from Namibia’s tidy capital of Windhoek, out in the Namib desert of the country’s southwest, you’ll find one of the world’s more impressive natural sights and experiences: its highest (up to some 280 feet/85 meters) and oldest sand dunes. Sossusvlei, part of Africa’s biggest game park, Namib-Naukluft National Park, is punctuated by twisted camel thorn trees; you can balloon and fly over these towering reddish “star dunes,” hike them (guide recommended), and even surf down their sides (note to self: look up how to say “cowabunga!” in Nama). The best times of day to come and experience them are sunrise and sunset, when their reddish-orangy hues shift, shimmer, and glow. Don’t forget to also stop for a peek at dramatic Sesriem Canyon, some 40 miles (65 km) away. Admission to Namib-Naukluft is N$80*, and for overnighting, there are various lodges in the area to choose from. A top newish upscale choice is Sossus Dune Lodge, but if its lead rate of N$2,400** is a tad rich for your blood, other options include Desert Camp (from N$455 per person), Desert Homestead (from N$583 pp), and Betesda Lodge (from N$550, or just N$80 to camp). That’s going on your own — naturally there are also a bunch of safari operators which will bring you here on all-inclusive itineraries. More country info: Tripatini’s Namibia group, NamibiaTourism.com.na.
*approximately US$10; £6.50; €7.50; AU$11.75, NZ$15, R80
**approximately US$310; £198; €228; AU$352, NZ$448, R2,400
Ever Heard of Stewart Island? It’s A Wild Slice of Old New Zealand
January 25, 2010 at 2:13 pm | In New Zealand, Oceania, ecotourism | Leave a CommentTags: birding, birdwatching, eco-tourism, ecotourism, kiwi, kiwis, New Zealand, Oban, South Island, Stewart Island, Ulva Island
Flashlights bobbing in the night as we gingerly picked our way through the bush, all 15 of us switched off at the command of our guide Peter, leaving his the sole illumination, hopping and skipping over the remote, seaweed-strewn beach.
Suddenly there it was, head bobbing up and down, long beak darting in and out of the sand, single-mindedly nibbling on spiders, berries, and crustaceans: the elusive New Zealand kiwi. We waddled in muted tandem behind Peter as he inched us to within 20 feet. Trying not to intrude upon her late-night supper, we were star-struck by this little brown dumpling of a bird. It’s an experience even few Kiwis of the human variety have ever had, outside of a zoo.
You see, Stewart Island, 674 isolated square miles (1,745 sq. km) an hour’s ferry ride south of the South Island, is someplace that very few New Zealanders ever get to — much less outsiders — and is one of the few spots where it’s still possible to spot this iconic native bird.
And there are plenty of other reasons to visit Stewart, too (also sometimes known by its Maori name, Rakiura). Isolated, insular, practically undeveloped, natural, wild — it’s a destination that beckons in a way few these days still do. And yet, there’s a very lived-on, lived-in feel here, of everyday life — though probably not your kind of everyday life. Most locals get by on fishing, a spot of farming — and these days, a modest dollop of tourism. No banks, no doctors (there’s a nurse-staffed clinic, though), and, as a waitress at the Just Café told me, “no stress.” Ask how many live here, and you might hear something like: “Well, 400 at last count – no, wait – Annie just gave birth to the twins and Rupert died last week, so guess that makes 401.”
Tourism infrastructure, meanwhile, has been coming along. Start by checking in at one of a handful digs in tiny Oban town and beyond, from backpacker baracks to upscale B&B’s and rental homes. Take a peek in the Rakiura Museum. Take a glass-bottom boat ride in Half Moon Bay. Have a paddle in a sea kayak.
But Stewart’s main draw is still its primordial nature — 85 percent is covered by NZ’s newest national park, and it’s a magical place to have a tramp and go wildlife (particularly bird) spotting. There are only some 18 miles of road, but 174 miles of walking trails, ranging from 15-minute strolls to three-hour hikes to ten-day treks.
I especially loved the “Maori beach track,” a 15-minute water-taxi ride from Oban. Slogging through practically impenetrable bush or hugging the craggy seaside cliff, we were bombarded in surround sound by the crashing of waves below and the cries of birds overhead. Another favorite was wee Ulva Island, also reachable by water taxi — like the “forest primeval” à la Walt Whitman’s famous poem Evangeline. Virtually untouched, predator-free, and primitive, by comparison it makes Stewart feel practically like Manhattan. Sixth-generation Stewart Islander Ulva Amos conducts marvelous tours here, able to distinguish between every caw, chirp, click, creak, twill or whistle from the treetops.
On Stewart Island you’ll find birds, trees and plants otherwise practically extinct, and its hardwood podacorp forest, literally of pre-historic vintage, harbors plant species 350 million years old. Besides the kiwi, other rare birds such as the fernbird, saddleback, rifleman and yellowhead roam the woods like in the old days.
At night, we’d hang out at the South Seas’ bar with stocking-cap-wearing men just off their fishing boats, with long beards and high boots, trying to best each other at billiards and darts. Folks drank with gusto, chortling over town gossip or bemoaning the latest catch. This is not a place that serves a lot of lite beer.
Nearby, have a peek in Glowing Sky, the T-shirt shop owned by Dil Belworthy, a former fisherman who several years ago “saw the writing on the wall, how the fishing industry was going downhill, and how we saw tourism on the horizon.” And so for the last few years, Dil’s’s been turning out gorgeous tees handprinted with native Maori symbols and traditional images.
For sure, I detected a whiff of mixed emotions about this new industry of inviting the outside to their little island sanctuary. But I also got the feeling that it’s unlikely that this relic of a simpler time will lose its charm any time soon. Thank goodness.
More information: StewartIsland.co.nz, Stewart-Island-News.com, StewartIslandExperience.com.
Stalking The Great Bengal Tiger in India’s Sunderban Delta
October 19, 2009 at 11:09 am | In ecotourism | Leave a Commentby Binoy Gupta

The magnificent, elusive Royal Bengal Tiger of India's Sunderban Delta.
Having lived in India my entire life, in all those years, often had I heard tales of the Sunderbans. Stretching across more than 10,000 square kilometers (almost 4,000 square miles) in the state of West Bengal and into Bangladesh, this delta is the world’s largest — and also its largest mangrove forest — an ecosystem so special that it’s been a UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1997. But even more than all that, we’d always heard tell of the mysterious realm of the endangered — and occasionally man-eating — Royal Bengal Tiger, which reaches lengths of up to ten feet and more than 400 pounds.
So it was that during this past dry season (September through April — much recommended!), my wife Anila and I flew to Kolkata (Calcutta) and rented a car for the 3 1/2-hour drive to the town of Sonakhali, past the lush, picturesque wetlands, farm fields, and fish hatcheries of rural Bengal. From there it was a 2 1/2-hour boat cruise upriver to Sajnekhali in the Sunderbans National Park.
We’d booked ourselves into the 30-room, tourism-office-run Sajnekhali Tourist Lodge (1,500 rupees/US$30) per night, including meals, tours, and transfers). Built on stilts, it’s the only place where humans are allowed to overnight inside the forest itself. It’s attractive and comfortable enough, and the Bengali fare is certainly tasty, but the lodge is still simple and rustic, with generator-run fans and lights but no electricity or A/C. If you’d like a touch more luxury, stay at Sunderban Tiger Camp just across the river (huts from Rs. 4,850/US$105 for two days and one night, also all-inclusive) or Bali Island’s six-cottage Sunderban Bali Jungle Camp (from Rs. 3,800/US$76) run by an aid organization. You can even opt to sleep aboard the launch that brought you upriver.
So what makes this aquatic forest so special? For starters, it’s formed where the Ganges and Brahmaputra rivers meet the sea, and the waters in its numerous rivers, creeks and canals rise and fall with the tides. That and the salinity make it one of the world’s more hostile terrains; most of the living things here — animals and plants, land and aquatic — have had to develop unusual adaptations to survive. That includes the tigers themselves, who have become strong swimmers, learned to fish, and even survive on salty and brackish water.
There are 83 species of mangrove trees, and their snakelike roots and the surrounding waters harbor wildlife galore, including blood-red fiddler crabs and other crustaceans, the strange mud skippers (fish that walk on land and even climb trees); and various species of dolphins, porpoises, turtles, estuarine crocodile (the largest in the world — up to 10 meters/33 feet), monitor lizards, snakes, frogs, and toads. Not to mention the birds — the Sajnekhali Bird Sanctuary is a birders’ paradise where we spotted plenty of marvelous exemplars including a number of the 15 species of raptors like the peregrine falcon, white-bellied sea eagle, and brahmini kite.
In our four days in the Sunderbans, Anila and I got around quite a bit. We climbed the lodge’s watch tower and saw some spotted deer. We walked among the ponds and hatcheries where eggs of crocodiles and giant Olive Ridley turtles are hatched and babies released into the wild. We boated through the intricate maze of rivers, streams, channels, estuaries and creeks created by the mighty Ganges and Brahmaputra river systems.
We also got to explore village life and ancient temples. In Netidhopani we felt like a bit like Indiana Jones exploring the ruins of its 400-year-old Hindu temple, about which not even the villagers could tell us much. But they did regale us with tales of tigers and gods (a few can speak and understand English; guides also interpret for visitors). They worship the forest goddess Bonbibi, they said, who protects them from tigers and other calamities, and when venturing into the mangrove forests, a common protection technique is wearing backwards-facing masks resembling human faces (tigers prefer to sneak up on prey that’s unsuspecting, not alert). Attacks do occur, rarely — invariably when humans trespass or blunder onto tiger turf.
But…sigh… At night we did hear occasional tiger roars, and we spotted fresh spoor on muddy banks. But even though this reserve harbors more of these magificent creatures than any in the world (274 at last count), I was disappointed that we never managed to sight a single one ourselves. “The area is very large, the terrain difficult, and these animals wide-ranging, you must understand,” said one of our guides apologetically.
I quickly got over it, though, because the Sunderbans still possess a mysterious, otherworldly charm that honestly had both of us mesmerized and reluctant to leave. If you come to India, you’ll find it’s well worth devoting several days to an eco-adventure you’ll remember for years.
Making Arrangements: Traveling to the Sunderbans is easy and not necessarily expensive; you can book through a number of tour operators, or online through the West Bengal Tourist Office (www.WestBengalTourism.gov.in), which arranges visitors’ permits, tour packages, and customized itineraries.
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